


All of Your Tomorrows

by softly_speaking_valkyrie



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: ALL THE SPOILERS, Comfort, Crying, Emotional, F/F, Femslash, Girl On Girl, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lesbian Kissing, Lesbians, Lots of Crying, Love, Protection, Reconciliation, Redemption, Romance, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Last Jedi, The Last Jedi - Freeform, Women Loving Women, Yuri, massive spoilers, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 09:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13051686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR ALL OF 'STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI' AND 'STAR WARS: PHASMA'As Phasma struggles to survive the destruction of Snoke's Command Ship while the crumbling Resistance flees to the moon of Krate, she stumbles upon her way off of the burning ship - The Millennium Falcon.When Rey finds her way to the rendezvous point where Chewbacca and Artoo wait for her, she finds Phasma intruding on the Falcon. They come to a struggling agreement to fly to Krate together, and Phasma soon finds herself reevaluating who she really is, as the First Order faces the threat of a new leadership at a perilous point.All before the start of the Second Galactic Civil War.





	All of Your Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> In case the description didn't slap it across your face enough, here it is again. 
> 
> THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE OF 'STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI' AS WELL AS 'STAR WARS: PHASMA' 
> 
> So if you haven't watched the movie already, or if you have and want to read Phasma's book, please do go and do either or both of them and come back for this. This story literally spoils the whole of both of those. 
> 
> Also, if you have seen the movie, I set this story up to be canon, and I'll explain the one tiny discrepancy at the end. 
> 
> Please, enjoy.
> 
> For those who won't understand the title, it is a reference to something from the Phasma book, which I read before watching The Last Jedi and therefore will never get that time back.

Phasma could survive anything. That was the one thing concrete and never faltering about the flailing and soaring woman. As she fell down deck after deck of Snoke’s command ship she revelled in her life. How she had survived more than anything in the history of the galaxy. 

She had lived on Parnassos for all of her life until ten years ago. She had survived a world that had been devastated by nuclear devices, explosions, radiation, and a twisted evolution that had turned every aspect of living there into a fight against the elements of the planet itself for survival. She had survived Brendol Hux and his quest to get back to the First Order. She had survived rampant droids, the Arratu, the Claws, Balder, even an assault by her own clan - the Scrye. And she had killed everyone there, every single witness (to her knowledge) of her disgusting and pathetic past. Captain Phasma had even flicked a deadly beetle onto Brendol to murder the aged Hux. It had turned him to pure liquid in a bacta tank aboard the Finalizer. And she had rid the galaxy of Cardinal - her rival in the First Order and the man who trained her stormtroopers while they were infants and children. 

It had been Cardinal who had let FN-2187 harbour his dissension and knack for rebellion before Phasma could snuff it out like a wildfire. It had been Cardinal, inadvertently perhaps, who had sown her downfall. Her quite literal downfall, as she plummeted down deck after deck of the burning and crumbling command ship. 

Vice Admiral Holdo, she’d destroyed the majority of the fleet with her small hyperspace jump. Smart, tenacious, self-sacrificial. Phasma actually commended the dead woman for it as she fell, as time slowed and Phasma was alone with thoughts as she fell to her death. 

That was something real with lightspeed. Nothing like jumping inside of a hanger or exiting lightspeed in atmosphere. No, jumping through a fleet. The Vice Admiral’s light cruiser had become a spear of lightning and once it split through the starboard wing of Snoke’s ship, it had cracked through the fleet like a might streak of thunder through the branches of a tree. Phasma could see it through the damage and openings of the decks as she fell. 

And FN-2187, he had killed her. She should not have turned her back to him, despite pushing him through that hole. The girl, she had Phasma distracted, with the whole hangar deck in flames and ruin. Phasma was better than that, she knew it, but it was the boy - FN-2187. She could not let him go from her. No one at all ever betrayed her, the scar he had dealt her ran too deep for her own good. 

If he had survived the ship, then so would she, and she would see him once again, oh yes. Phasma would find FN-2187 once again, and the girl. And she would have them. 

Phasma would survive this ship, she could and would survive anything and everything the galaxy and this pathetic war threw at her. The Second Galactic Civil War, Phasma knew it would be called, and she would fight in it, either for the First Order or even just for herself, she would fight in it. It would be the war to end all the wars the galaxy had seen. Fought in a different arena, Phasma would claim her slice of it, pacify systems with her armies of white troopers. Phasma would live to fight in this. 

She saw her escape - a small hatchway meant for the garbage. The second escape from an exploding environment. She wore the remains of her entire family under her eyes as salve for years on Parnassos. She crippled and killed her only brother. She murdered her child niece to clean house. Phasma was not above anything.

Survival at all costs, that was Phasma’s way. And she would survive this. 

Captain Phasma altered her body, managing to make a spear of herself, but her helmet flew from her face, revealing her sodden golden hair and her mauled face, beaten a little from the swing of the electro-staff FN-2187 had delivered to her, but she did not care, she was alive and soon she was zooming down the shoot, down decks and to where she wanted. 

After wading through some of the remaining garbage, walking over scorching decks and through fields of adding debris, with the ship falling apart, she found what she knew to be in one of the below hangars. With a company of melting TIE Fighters and dead troopers, Phasma found it. 

The Millennium Falcon. Ready. 

Phasma reached for her sidearm and checked the clip. She restocked her ammo and readied her staff as well to face the girl she assumed to be on board. Phasma would be seizing passage to Crait, there she would regroup, with the Supreme Leader if he had survived. Or with Armitage Hux, or better yet, Phasma’s superior, the only real one she saw promise in. 

Kylo Ren.

Rey was running, sprinting down the burning corridors with the shattered and pulled apart remains of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber in her hands, each of her palms burned by the scorching metal of the two halves. It was broken, literally pulled apart by her and Kylo Ren. The crystal was still embedded within the metal chassis, but the lightsaber itself was utterly dead. Rey’s staff was on board the Falcon, as the warm and familiar, homely ship was in view. She thought herself a fool. As much as she could harness and call on the Force to aid her against Snoke - now dead Snoke - and how amazing it had been to fight with Ben, to destroy the Praetorian Guards with him. It was all for nothing at all. 

What had been the point in it? The point in leaving Ach-To, leaving Luke to come and try to help Ben, only for the man to be consumed by the shadows of his grandfather. He was no longer Ben, and he was not as strong as Darth Vader, but he had so much of the machine in him, Ben was now swallowed whole by Kylo Ren. 

Rey knew it, sensed it, as she approached the landing ramp of the Falcon, her eyes beginning to leak with desperate tears. She could feel the black heart of Kylo Ren shroud the entire vessel. And Rey needed to be gone. She needed to get out of here and find her friends. Snoke had been blowing them out of space as they raced for Crait. Rey had to find them all and protect them from Kylo Ren - Finn, Leia… 

“Chewie! We need to leave! Now!” Rey called as she fisted the release latch and the ramp began to crawl back upward. She threw the shards of Anakin’s lightsaber across the floor and slumped to it with them, on either side of her a half of the weapon she’d used to fight Kylo Ren before, and then tried to save Ben Solo. 

She felt a failure. She could not protect Han Solo, she couldn’t help Finn, she could not inspire Luke. And now, Rey, so alone and feeling so downtrodden by the ebb and flow of the damned cosmos, could not even help Ben Solo come back from Kylo Ren. He was gone and she felt so responsible, it made her weep into her shaking hands. 

Why? Why could Kylo not listen to her? Why could he not see the futility in all of the hate? In all of the useless destruction and death? Had he not learnt anything from what his father and uncle had fought through? Was there truly too much Vader in him and not enough of his own mother and father? 

What was she to tell Leia? That she found Luke in a hovel, determined to die for what he had done? That she could not inspire him to come back, to help them face Kylo Ren, and to end this terrible war before it could start? 

Was Rey to tell the General that despite her efforts, and all she and Kylo had talked and understood, he was simply that evil? Evil enough to destroy Snoke but not come back, and simply seize the First Order for himself?

Rey cried all the more as she sulked, hands over her eyes as they leaked tears all down her face. The things she witnessed in that horrible red room scarred her, tormented her. 

“He turns the lightsaber.” Snoke had commented, as she looked into Ben’s eyes and pleaded with him not to kill her. She had begged him for her life. And then, as Snoke talked more, “And he ignites it.” Kylo had cut him in half with his grandfather’s lightsaber. But why could he not remember Anakin down to his final moments? Why was Vader the only thing he could care about from his grandfather? Why?

Rey slammed her fists into each side of her head in anger and then against the wall, the Force strengthening her punches and creating small dents on the walls of Han Solo’s ship. It was at that moment, that Rey realised the ship had not moved at all since she had called for Chewbacca. 

“Chewie?!” Rey called again, standing, pulling back her angered and defeated tears. She walked to the cockpit, but before she got there she saw Chewwie, with a blaster pistol to his head and sparkling chrome plate behind him. 

It was Phasma. She was stood right behind Chewwie, almost as tall as the hairy beast of a man, and pointing the barrel of her sidearm into his skull. Even though Chewbacca was a Wookie (about the only thing more fierce than Phasma) he knew the smartness in keeping quiet aside from a small whimper in his native howels. He didn’t move at all from Phasma, he sensed she had a better battle sense than even he did. Artoo was shoved around the side of the wall and beeped their presence to Rey as she looked over Phasma, her mouth opened, confused and her eyes glassy. Her face was redly blotchy and inside of her eyes, there was a fire of red that burned with intensity. This was not what she wanted and as she clutched both halves of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber in her hands those eyes began to turn yellow a little. 

“Get in the pilot seat, girl, and fly us down to Crait before I blast this mutt’s skull all over the cabin and kill you and the droid,” Phasma ordered Rey, her crossed and bludgeoned face still deadly serious and so commanding the yellow slipped from Rey’s eyes before she could answer. 

Her staff was in the main room, too far out of her grasp. There was nothing she could do except rip the pistol from Phasma’s hands with the Force aiding her. But the reflexes of this stormtrooper Captain had to be too finely tuned to not kill Chewwie before the blaster came to Rey’s fingers. She was stuck, and if Phasma liked she could easily kill them all right now, even Artoo. The reason why Chewwie wasn’t ripping her arms out of her sockets was simply that this tall and slender creature named Captain Phasma was far too hardened to not kill him beforehand. The chrome of her breastplate had a scorch mark on the upper bust. Rey noticed. 

“You’ve been shot,” Rey commented, hands in the air and still holding two halves of lightsaber. The ship around the Falcon continued to slowly burn and crumble around the outer layer of the ship and a thundering roar reminded them of the tight time frame to get clear before the thing detonated. The reactors must have been ablaze at this point. Rey only hoped the fleet was on the ground already. 

She hoped Finn and Leia were hopefully among those on Crait. 

Phasma looked at the floor aside Rey and then back to the girl with the young and crying face, Rey looked so unlike anything Phasma had seen in a very very long time. The only thing seemingly close in her memory was Siv, was Gosta, her clan sisters on Parnassos, but both were dead, Gosta buried in that desert close to the radiation and Siv poisoned by radiation with a stillborn in her belly, unswollen and dead. 

Captain Phasma had left Siv and her unborn child for dead ten years ago, and still, she did not regret. It was for her glory, her survival, as was everything else she had ever done, on and off Parnassos. 

“I’ll only say this again. Girl. Get in that pilot seat and fly us down to Crait or I assure you I’ll kill the Wookie, the droid and you and fly myself down there.” Phasma told her, still trying to keep them alive. She’d kill them if they were anyone else. But this was Rey, Chewbacca and Artoo-Detoo. Phasma could use them for something, whether it be with Leia and the Resistance if there was anything left of it by now, or with Kylo Ren. He had killed Han Solo, Phasma was sure his best friend Wookie would go down an equal treatment with the Sith.

“You don’t have to do this, Captain.”

“I don’t have to keep you alive either, but I will. Get in the damned chair, girl.” Phasma repeated, and Rey could tell her patience was running thin. She moved, hands still in the air, to the cabin, head slightly bowed. Phasma allowed her to keep the severed halves of the sabre and gently tugged Chewwie and herself away to let Rey sit down. 

Artoo scuttled out and Phasma threw the Wookie to the floor away, and sealed herself and Rey in the cabin, locking the emergency door shut with a shunt and then the chrome plated and desperate woman turned the barrel of her blaster to Rey, as the intrepid Padawan sat and readied to take off. 

“You really don’t have to do this. This ship is coming apart.” Rey reminded the Captain, but Phasma looked more angered than ever. Without her helmet, she was totally different to anything Rey had ever seen before. She had not seen Finn in his white armour, back when he was FN-2187. But now she was seeing this larger than life woman in chrome plasteel that was charred around the edges, with a burnt captain’s cape of armourweave and a bruised and bloody face. 

Phasma’s lip was split, her nose broken and a massively bruised eye swelling from where she had been bludgeoned. Rey had no idea it was Finn who had served her the blow, but Phasma was channelling all her anger into her fingers, along with all her resolve. She wanted to shoot Rey, to kill her, but she also did not. 

It was Rey’s face and this amazing aura about her. Her sadness, her grief, her guilt, all of it from Rey was exhumed into a stellar shield around the cabin, and Phasma felt it, felt it deep down in her heart, her soul. 

Flashes of Parnassos came to her, Brendol, Keldo - her brother - along with all of their tribe; Ylva and her daughter Frey, the one Phasma had turned into a stormtrooper only to murder her because she knew of Parnassos and how Phasma had grown up there. Siv and her baby, Gosta, Torben, the beefy and lovable lump of a man who had helped her so much against Wanderous. All those starving people who had been held captive in the Arratu, who had eaten Ellie, the female stormtrooper alive just so they could have a bed and food in their bellies. Phasma had to slit their throats with her knife in their sleep because she was so disgusted, while Brendol’s miraculous medicine had healed her broken face that night. 

It all came back to Phasma as she sat there, not saying anything in response to Rey. And she saw Rey’s grief, her overwhelming sadness, everything in her eyes. The tears. 

The brunette held the Falcon up and scooted out of the hangar as it erupted in flames. Snoke’s command ship, it was finally breaking apart, as the Star Destroyers did the same all around it. The massive armada of First Order ships, crackling like kindling to a flame and all splitting apart as if they were branches of one solid tree with bark fleeing before a winter. Phasma, deep down, was devastated. Holdo had destroyed them all at the cost of her own life, and Phasma was slightly pleased with that, as guilty as she felt. 

So much destruction, for what? A hundred or so Resistance fighters? First the Dreadnought, and not Snoke’s ship. And the Starkiller Base atop all of this, a mountain of destruction in the span of forty-eight hours. It was all so pointless. 

Phasma dropped her blaster and sat back.

“Was it like this the first time?” Phasma asked, seemingly breaking her own conditioning, showing she had some semblance of a conscience, looking as if she had remorse for so many lives lost. Phasma had never considered remorse to be a viable feeling to her before, but seeing so many ships, burning, aflame, dying, cracked like stones in a machine, and in the cockpit with Rey (who was still weeping), Phasma felt something terrible inside of her.

Rey looked at her as they escaped the explosion of Snoke’s command vessel and soaring to the planet of Crait. There were no more lifeboats of the Resistance heading for it. Those that were left must have landed. And there were no other vessels of the First Order pursuing them. Rey and Phasma were alone now.

“I-I’m sorry?” Rey asked, trying to make a conversation with her captor. 

“Was the First Galactic Civil War like this? Only I imagine this skirmish of ours will now be the Second Galactic Civil War.” Phasma noted, seeing such similarities in this she had fought in, and what she had read about the war between the Empire and the Rebel Alliance. Part of her wished to have been there to see Endor - Ackbar leading the charge against Piett as Skywalker was held by Palpatine at his observation deck on the Second Death Star. 

Rey looked into the sea of stars around Crait, the small ball coming closer to the Falcon. Rey was young and had only heard small snippets of stories about that war. Like Phasma, she was alien to a galaxy-wide conflict. And she hoped with her heart that this small battle between the Resistance and the First Order would not become a repeat of what almost tore the galaxy apart. 

“I… I don’t know… I never knew anything about that war. Only that the Empire met its end over the sands of Jakku where I was raised. Admiral Ackbar led another charge with General Organa to destroy the remaining ships of the Imperial Fleet… I spend my entire life scavenging through those ships on Jakku until--”

“-- Until about a week ago. I was informed. You’re the girl who made of Jakku with the BB unit. With the map to Skywalker. Did you find him?” Phasma asked, setting her blaster on the dashboard of the Falcon as she and Rey conversed. Suddenly there was no conflict between them. There was no conflict in Phasma at all as she conversed with Rey. All there was was guilt and memory, and feeling the tumultuous sadness in her pilot. Phasma could only imagine what the girl had been through to land on Snoke’s ship, to have come back from Snoke’s chambers. 

Did Rey find Luke? Was she about to tell Phasma? 

“Yes… I found him. But I was a little too late to help him.” Rey dismayed, letting her head dip. “Why am I telling you this?” She asked, feeling such conflict within herself. Was this naivety? Was it rashness? Was it a knack for never listening to anything? Rey did not know, all she did know was what she sensed more conflict within Phasma. Not the same as in Kylo Ren. This was genuine. Solid. Phasma was fighting herself, her conditioning, her own personality suddenly, once she saw the same truths that Kylo had seen when they had killed all of the Praetorians and Snoke himself. Rey sensed the same conflict and the same views. 

That it was all for nothing. All of it, that it all ended the same way, the same routes and paths taken to arrive at the same conclusion. No matter what anyone did. The Jedi, the Sith, the Empire, the Alliance, the First Order, the Resistance. It would all end in death, more death and more conflict. 

There was more than this. So much more. Rey saw it. Phasma saw it. But they could not ever agree upon it. Or could they?

“Why are we having this conversation, even? You’re taking us to the planet and as soon as you land I’m running right back the First Order. We’ll destroy your Resistance and everything along with it. And then order will finally be restored to the galaxy.” Phasma ran, like the posters she was on, as fake as small implants in her face keeping it young and propaganda-worthy. But as the words left her mouth, even Phasma did not believe them.

Rey turned in her chair to gaze at the golden blonde woman in her striking eyes. She saw the depth of the conflict rising in Phasma. She saw the guilt, and Rey read it all in Phasma’s face. She read her history, her memory, accessing all that had happened on Parnassos, and in the First Order since. And Rey began to cry a little more. 

“We’re having this conversation because we’re not so different. You and I…” Rey reached out to Phasma again, trying to make some form of connection to the dilapidated First Order Captain. Rey sensed her struggle so clearly as if she had been through Parnassos and everything after it herself. It was so clear. She placed a hand on Phasma’s chromed shoulder and passed as much balance as Rey could muster into the blonde woman. “Phasma…”

“What the hell are you doing?” Phasma asked, her eyes wide, glaring as she felt Rey touching her. No one had touched her like that, not ever - not even her brother had touched her like that. Not Siv, not Torben, not anyone in the First Order. Only Rey had made such an advance. 

“I see what you’ve been through. I see what you have done, Captain Phasma. I see Parnassos, I see the Finalizer, the Absolution. I see Captain Cardinal, Brendol Hux, Armitage Hux, Kylo Ren, Snoke. I see you and everything about you. Your eyes are my eyes. Your memory is my memory.

“Body to body… Dust to dust… Your today protects my tomorrow…”

Phasma pulled the blaster pistol from the dashboard and held it between herself and Rey, terrified of the woman at the helm of the Falcon and breathing in a rushed manner as she charged her shot to kill Rey.

No one in the universe aside from Phasma could ever know those words - they were ancient, and secret to the tribe of the Scrye, the people Phasma belonged to on Parnassos. There was no possible way that Rey could know them. The last person who could recall them was Brendol Hux, and Phasma had made sure to kill him personally, as well as Frey. There was no one else alive that knew those words in that way.

“How do you know those words?” Phasma demanded, her eyes beginning to streak with tears, as were Rey’s. They were both strong, stronger women than had ever lived, but they were both reduced to these tears before the other. 

Rey continued to cry for Phasma, and Phasma for her, as the blaster lowered and dropped to the floor. 

“Body to body… Dust to dust… Your today protects my tomorrow… Those were the words the Scrye chanted when Siv graced everyone with the salve. The reason you’re even alive… They still mean something to you… Don’t they, Phasma?” Rey asked, her hands yearning to reach out and pull Phasma closely, to hold her. 

They were alike, by different means but Rey saw in Phasma a copy of herself. She saw a small woman on a desolate and barren planet in a fight for survival against so many elements. Phasma had it worse and had come out differently because of who had found her. Brendol had landed on Parnassos, and Finn had landed on Jakku. But Rey saw herself in Phasma. And she was not about to let that polar opposite her, go back to Kylo Ren. She would die before it. 

Phasma wept. Her blaster was on the ground and she cried, for the first time in her life she cried. Rey reached forward and took the chrome-plated Captain into her arms. Rey held Phasma close, and the two embraced as the Falcon traversed into Craitian skies.

“They were the words Siv spoke when she applied the salve under our eyes, to keep us from succumbing to disease and the horrible acid rain of Parnassos… And I left her to die there, cursed by a region of radiation. Whether or not she died or not, she’ll be trapped there. The radiation would have made her stuck in whatever fallout shelter she may have survived in. I remember Brendol directing her to one. If she lived there, she’ll be stuck there.” Phasma confessed to Rey, with Chewie in the cockpit while they talked around the small table in the back. The Falcon was landed and they were waiting for the moment they could hear the signs of battle. At that point, Rey would intervene and save the Resistance as much as she could. They just did not know where they were holed up. 

She reached and held Phasma’s arm, consolingly. Rey had not a clue of what Phasma was going to do now. Was she going to leave? Back to the First Order? Or was she going to attempt to kill Rey and Chewie? If she did, Rey would not hold back, she could not allow Phasma to stop them from saving the Resistance. Not now. 

“She could still be alive there.”

“It has been ten years. If she did, she’ll kill me as soon as I attempt to go back for it. If I even can. I don’t know how I could ellude the First Order if I left.” Phasma shot back, still feeling the crippling doubt of her conditioning as well as her own overwhelming sense of self-preservation. It was that powerful survival instinct that dominated her. It told her to kill Rey and Chewbacca and fly the Falcon back to Ren, and to eliminate the Resistance. 

But Rey’s mind and hers were connected, and the connection was chipping away at both senses that controlled Phasma’s personality. This was the first time Phasma had been herself in her life. And that Phasma was full of remorse, regret and self-hatred, she even let Rey hold her hand. 

“Come with us… The Resistance. We can go to Parnassos, we can find Siv, we can win this Phasma… You don’t have to die, and you don’t have to go back to Kylo. He’ll kill you before long too.” Rey pleaded with Phasma, holding her hands in hers, feeling such conflict, and unable to pull herself away from the beautiful Captain. Rey’s heart swelled in her chest and she teared up again. 

Phasma paused. Something Rey had said. Something she hadn’t. Phasma took one peek, using this connection to read Rey a little.

“What do you mean… ‘Too’?” Phasma asked, looking up at Rey. “How… How did you escape Snoke? I have met the Supreme Leader and I know of his power. There is no way he would have let you escape…” Phasma deduced. And she looked at the halves of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber, shredded, pulled apart. 

Rey felt the sudden surge of guilt and fear overwhelm her mind, coming to the forefront as she kept her and Phasma’s memories as one. She could not turn it off. 

There came a deep and dark voice to Rey’s mind as she saw a thread snapping in Phasma’s eyes. The darkest of voices, coming from the very lightsaber in two halves. Coming from her connection with Kylo, deep through his genes and through the ages of time that had passed since Endor. And Rey felt him. 

Darth Vader. Talking to Luke, as if he were talking to Rey. “Your thoughts betray you.” He said, and then Rey heard another voice, one she had heard in Maz Kanata's castle when she saw the visions from the lightsaber. 

It was the voice of an old man, a warm and loving man whom she felt so close to at the time, but now he was warning her. And Rey saw the conflict sprout again in Phasma’s eyes. She was fighting. 

“Bury your feelings deep down… They do you credit… But they could be made to serve the Emperor.”

“Darkness rises… And Light to meet it.” Snoke’s words ringed into her ears once more and when Rey returned, Phasma was ablaze again and lunging across the seats, her hands coming to clasp around Rey’s neck. She was strangling her. 

“Phasma!” Rey shouted before Phasma silenced her. 

The blonde was snarling over Rey as she tried so desperately to snuff the life from her. Phasma saw it all in front of her, darkness oozing off of her and Rey could see it. She could see it all in Phasma’s eyes as she looked at her and strangled her. It was Snoke, the remnants of Supreme Leader Snoke deep in Phasma’s eyes, she could see him, what was left of him, influencing Phasma to kill Rey there. This was not Phasma, it could not be. This was not the woman who felt remorse and regret over every detail of her downtrodden and faux life. This was Snoke still. This was Sidious and Vader, and Kylo Ren, and Maul and Tyrannus. This was the Sith, this was the dark side, and it had Phasma plainly. 

“The Supreme Leader is dead… At your hands?” Phasma asked, still seeping through the visage of Snoke as he possessed her. 

Rey had no choice, she reached out with the Force for her staff and pulled it to her grasp, knocking Phasma on her exposed head and shoving her off of her in the reeling seconds. And suddenly they were both up. Rey had her reliable staff in her hand and Phasma was pulling her silver fighting stick out and they stood toe to toe in the Falcon. Rey had no time for this. 

“Kylo Ren killed Snoke, he killed him to save himself and claim the power of the First Order. He killed Snoke so he didn’t have to kill me.” Rey explained, calmly, trying to remain as calm as she could as snarling Phasma eyed her down with her staff in hand. 

“Then you are equally guilty of killing him. And Kylo is a spineless fool--”

“-- No! Phasma. Kylo Ren has become very powerful, and I am right, if you go back to him he’ll kill you before long like he killed Snoke. I promise you,” she set her staff aside and waited for Phasma to do the same. There had been too much fighting, too much needless death since she had left Jakku. She would not kill Phasma, she would not. “Please… Don’t let Kylo take any more of our families for his own obsession with killing his past.”

It took several seconds of struggling, and Rey tossed her staff to the ground, but eventually, Phasma did the same, and crumbled to her knees, weeping again, as if her eyes needed to make up for the lost years of crying. She was fighting over twenty years of self-conditioning, with an added layer courtesy of Brendol Hux. But Phasma was coming through. 

Rey went to her, holding her face and joining her on her knees. “Body to body,” Rey began to spoke, looking Phasma in her eyes, crying with her and sharing the pain of a life lost. Of so many lives lost. Of coming from absolutely nothing. To become something neither thought they would be. 

“Dust… to dust…” Phasma wept, struggling to keep it all together for the first time in her life. Everything had been hard, just living, just surviving. So much so that it had become second nature to Phasma. But this was the hardest fight Phasma had fought. 

The fight to become herself. Finally. 

The slender and weeping brunette drew herself closer to Captain Phasma and kissed her compassionately, filling the weeping blonde with strength, as much as she could, as their thoughts spiralled and sank. All either could think was that this kiss felt good, warm, natural. A kiss Phasma had never ever received nor given, but Rey wanted her to have it. She reached all the way back into Phasma’s memory and gave her the feeling the blonde had never had. 

Love. Rey loved her, through all the feelings and atrocities. Through everything, Rey felt herself love the Captain. All at once, she could not help it. Phasma was broken, and Rey was too. But she was going to help the blonde. With love, more than she could even imagine.

Phasma needed it, and as far as Rey could decide, she had earned it. 

Together they kneeled before the war came back and they needed to go. “I’ll take the top turret, you take the bottom one,” Rey whispered to her companion, holding her and kisses her again and again. She sensed a wholeness coming to Phasma and Rey felt the swelling of love in her heart. She wanted to keep Phasma with her, no matter what. She’d protect her. 

“Your today… protects my tomorrow…” Phasma completed. 

“Rey… My name’s Rey…”

“Rey… Your today, it protects my tomorrow…”

Once again, Rey kissed Phasma, holding her close as she cried to her. “I promise. I’ll protect all of your todays… And all of your tomorrows… I will never let them have you again. I will protect all of your tomorrows. Phasma.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone cares. This story could be canon, as Phasma was still in the top turret while Rey rescued the Resistance and has the chat with General Leia. 
> 
> Imagine the movie ending, and Phasma comes down to face the judgement from the Resistance. 
> 
> Oh and no, I'm not gonna write more of this, please don't subscribe unless you want to subscribe to my profile specifically. I'm gonna be writing a lot more of Phasma, of Phasrey and of Phasrose, Reyrose, Haldorose, and Phasreyrose as we ramp up to Episode IX and Kenobi.


End file.
